


Because I Love You

by Ecila



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Model!Zayn, Narry - Freeform, actionjunkie!niall, author!louis, billionair!liam, doctor!zayn, larry - Freeform, love-triangle, stylinson, ziam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:44:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecila/pseuds/Ecila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis loves Harry. <br/>Harry thinks Louis is too good for him. <br/>Zayn is with Liam publically. <br/>Niall is an action-junkie. </p>
<p>OR the AU where Louis takes care of Harry, when he comes home after horrible dates and Zayn is dating Liam and Niall is a good friend who accidently falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So this is highly inspired by estrella30’s “Look at the stars, look how they shine for you”, though I explicitly point out that I haven’t even finished that one yet, so it shouldn’t be too copied :D  
> I’m kidding, really, the only part I got inspired by is mainly the “main situation” between the two main characters, but what I do out of it is completely different (I think), so yeah :)
> 
> Enjoy ~

Louis Tomlinson glances up from the TV, when hearing the front door of his shared flat slam shut. From the sound of things, Harry Styles, his flatmate and best friend, isn’t too happy. In fact, when the door slams like that, it is pretty clear that his night has been bad, horrible even. And his night was another of his dates. So another fail. 

Louis, not waiting for Harry to arrive at the living room, pushes himself off their comfortable couch and hastily walks over to the where Harry is standing, all tired and with a forced smile upon his lips. And Louis wants to just fling his arms around Harry’s body, tell him the date, whoever doesn’t even matter, is not worth Harry’s sadness, that whatever happened was for the best, because obviously the prick or bitch (whichever gender) was definitely not worth Harry’s time or attention. But what Louis does is, well, he pulls the handsome curly-haired lad into a bone-crushing hug, like he always does. He tells him that everything will be fine and that Harry deserved much better than “that son of a bitch”, until Harry chuckles and corrects Louis, that indeed it was a girl, this time.

Louis shrugs, not finding it in himself to care about such triviality, as he presses Harry’s slim, but fit body tighter to his chest. “Then daughter of a bitch!” Louis hisses into Harry’s hair, as furious for his friend’s sadness, as to the fact that someone actually hurt Harry in whatever way possible. God, the thought made Louis want to…

Louis usually isn’t the violent type, so he better not exactly express what he’d like to do to that very person that dares to hurt his Harry. 

Feeling Harry ease into his hug and take shallow breaths, has Louis realize just how upset that bitch has made Harry – however she did so – and Louis tries to calm the flaming madness that has him want to kill and see red. “Wanna talk about it?” he whispers with all kindness in his bones, his lips barely brushing against the shell of Harry’s ear.

Harry shakes his head, the mop of curls swaying back and forth in the movement, as he sniffs once more. “Just wanna cuddle…” he whispers with a hoarse voice that again twists Louis’ insides. Louis hates Harry being vulnerable. He hates that Harry keeps going on new dates – new hope in his beautiful jade emerald eyes and a new guy/gal to fancy about. But well, apparently Harry has the great skill to fancy really good-looking ones, who are just as much of a bitch as they’re shallow, or whatever, because each time, by the end of the day (or the 4th date, depends on the person, Louis supposes) Harry comes home disappointed. It’s not necessarily that the date does something ‘bad’ to Harry, but it’s… well, what is it? It’s not like Louis can properly judge, being as he’s never tagged along to one of those dates, but still. Harry comes home with a frown on his face, sadness in his former sparkly eyes, and well, disappointment written all over his face, where used to be excitement. Louis doesn’t know what exactly goes wrong, but he only knows something always goes very wrong. Seeing as the longest Harry’s “best achievement” lasted for literal 5 dates. That’s his literal record, and well, whenever Harry comes home, devastated, who is there to pick up the broken pieces? Because, yes, Harry is always broken anew, shocked and sad that it didn’t work out and really needs someone to hold him and to make him feel better.

That person is obviously Louis Tomlinson. Louis didn’t apply for the job – hell part of him really doesn’t want to do it – but when he sees those sad eyes, when he sees Harry so disappointed and lonely, then Louis can’t help himself and takes the curly lad into his arms, whispers sweet nothings into his ear, and well, more often than not, takes him either to his own room, or to Harry’s to at least make Harry feel better. With his body.

 

*

They’re in Harry’s bed, this time. Louis watches Harry with, still, wake eyes, his arm draped over the younger lad’s shoulder, while Harry’s face is resting on Louis’ chest, cuddling into the slightly sweaty skin, as neither can seem to bother about their state and just wanted to keep their limps entwined. Their legs are lazily woven together and both rather preferred the proximity than anything else.

Upon hearing Harry let out a low breath, Louis speaks up, low and his voice a bit raspy, “She’s really not worth it, Haz…” he tries to comfort Harry, not showing the hurt about Harry still thinking off the his former date, when he is right now with Louis, in bed, after having enjoyed intimate pleasure with him. 

Harry nods his head slowly, cuddling into Louis’ bare chest, while whispering in a sleepy drawl “M’know… I’d prefer you over her any day.” He whispers, pecking Louis’ chest lightly, before placing his head neatly on Louis’ chest again, all the while keeping his eyes closed. 

Louis feels his insides flutter, feels all inside of him melting, feels himself biting his bottom lip to not let out a shaky breath he is holding. Oh god, how he wishes that was enough. How he wishes he was enough. Swallowing, Louis whispers “Then… why don’t you?”

Harry keeps quiet, Louis knows he’s still awake though, so he continues. “Why don’t you… choose me over them all?” he adds, knowing how he’s setting himself to be crushed again. He’s asked Harry that several times – when they cuddle, or do much more intimate things, such as sex, that Louis desperately wants to believe mean more than just a ‘pleasure of the moment’. “Haz,” Louis whispers, and he know his voice inklings to pleading, “You know how I feel. I want to be with you…” Louis whispers, in desperate attempt of opening Harry’s eyes about how he is the right one for him. How Harry is perfect and belongs to Louis. And how Louis would vow forever to keep Harry happy and—

“I—No, Lou… we just… we _can’t_.” Harry whispers, shaking his head slowly. Louis is sure Harry can hear him inhale rather sharply, as Louis doesn’t utter another word. He’s heard the excuses several times. ‘It would ruin our friendship, Lou… I’m not good for you’ and so many other reasons that are nothing but excuses in Louis’ ear, and regardless of Harry’s sincere tone, they hurt and they just are not the truth.

No matter how many times Harry rejects, when after dates he’s being depressed, Louis is there for him – and Harry accepts what Louis offers, takes it. So how can Louis _not_ hope for their relationship to surpass the stage of, well, mindless ‘get better’ sex? How can he _not_ hope that Harry realizes they are meant to be. Maybe because they aren’t. That is the only reasonable explanation, Louis knows. But as much as he thinks that though, deep down, his heartbeat is telling him otherwise. Those feelings can’t be wrong, can’t be NOT real. They are. His love for Harry is as real and pure as well… as Harry’s little, young heart that had been broken too many times. 

Louis loves and hates fixing Harry’s heart, both at ones, because he hates seeing Harry sad and devastated, but he’s also happy that Harry trusts him with his heart, enough to let Louis see all layers of him and never hide away. 

“Lou?” Harry’s raspy, yet melodic voice whispers, and Louis tries to keep his breathing at normal rate, trying to get the shakiness out of it, as he pretends not to hear Harry. Whenever Harry shoots him down, Louis prefers not to show Harry just how hurt he is. How much the rejection each time gets to him. Harry knows, of course he does. They’ve been best mates for what feels like decades – and is originally about 5 years, ever since senior year when Louis transferred to Harry’s school. They’ve graduated in the university in different majors, but had been roommates, and finally decided, after college to move in together. Point being, Harry can read Louis like an open book – with or without looking at him, and right now, Harry very much knows Louis is awake. Louis knows that Harry does, but he refuses acknowledging that fact and stubbornly – or rather desperately – pretends to sleep, because –honestly?– his heart can’t take it. He doesn’t want to hear Harry apologize, because that leads to more reasons as to why they’re wrong for each other – or better yet Harry ‘too bad’ for Louis and he can’t bear that right now. Or ever.

Louis knows his stubbornness will win, and eventually Harry will fall asleep. 

 

*

When Louis wakes up, he realizes the bed is empty. It shouldn’t feel like this. Shouldn’t hurt like this. But it does. Each fucking damn time it hurts like this. And Louis lets it happen, because… because he loves Harry and if Harry is happy, then so is he. And if dating countless people is what Harry needs to keep him happy –which is obviously not the case, judging from how miserable he seems when always returning– then Louis will accept it. Even though he’d much prefer Harry being happy _with_ him. 

Like his mother loves to remind him off “We can’t have it all”, and Louis wants to snort, saying that he’s never really wanted anything –a lie– and how the only thing he wants, he can’t have. 

“LOU?!” Louis hears the recognizable voice of his other best mate, Zayn Malik, echo through the flat and scampers to his feet and gets dressed for as fast as he can, while he bites his bottom lip, pondering whether to just walk out of Harry’s room like this. Sooner or later he’ll have to face Zayn’s reaction, so sooner it is. Bracing himself mentally, he shouts “Here!” and can hear the door –of his own room– slam shut, as footsteps approach him. Seconds later, before he has the chance to open the door to Harry’s room, Zayn swings it open, his face showing the disapproval Louis has somewhat wanted to avoid – and obviously failed at. 

Zayn lets out a breath, “Again?” he doesn’t bother finish the sentence, because both know what that very much indicates and refers to. 

Louis huffs out a breath of air, trying to keep calm and shrugs slightly, “Yeah, guess so…” he murmurs, and just to light the mood, he adds, “Harry’s simply a horrible picker.” 

Zayn shakes his head, unwilling to give Louis the satisfaction of actually laughing at this very inappropriate moment. “So that’s why he settles for you.” He settles with replying. And Zayn realizes too late, how that doesn’t come less of as teasing and much more hurtful than he’d mean to sound, “God, Lou, I didn’t—“

“S’all right.” Louis interrupts, shrugging his shoulders lightly, as though Zayn’s words don’t hurt, intentionally or not, a truth is behind it after all. No need denying. Louis instead places his hand on Zayn’s broad back, pushing him out the room while he leads him to the kitchen. “I really fancy a tea right now.” And the topic is down and Zayn does not speak of it anymore. 

More apologies mean more reminders – and Louis needs anything than reminders that Harry always settles for him when his date goes ‘wrong’. Yes, Louis offers, and yes, Harry is only taking, but that still makes Louis feel as though he’s only good enough for a nice shag and when Harry looks for a proper partner – someone to date and _love_ – for whatever reason the younger lad always chooses good-looking, but very obnoxious people. And Louis can’t help wonder, whether he’d make it to the list of potentials, if he’d be a complete dick to Harry. Because, not to be too vain or conceited, but judging by the amount of people that come onto Louis, he can honestly say, he’s quite fit or at least ‘decent enough’…

So why doesn’t that damn curly head realize they are meant to be? Why does he keep pushing Louis away?! But that thought is put aside, when Zayn starts talking – and obviously trying to distract Louis from his rather saddening thoughts. 

Louis is thankful to have Zayn in his life – Zayn knows when Louis is down and instead of pressing on it, he does something to make Louis feel better instead. Best mate ever. 

“So, I say we call Niall over and then go for a bungee jump?” Zayn suggests casually, as though he’s talking about taking a walk around the park nearby. But fucking bungee jumping? That’s a total different story! And Louis tells Zayn that with wide eyes, when realizing that Zayn isn’t teasing or ticking Louis off, but actually seriously – in the most possible casual and smooth way. 

“Ya see,” Zayn starts, smirking, and Louis is absentmindedly aware that Zayn is a real looker. High cheekbones, tanned flawless skin, deep chocolate-honey gold eyes and a killer smile – judging as he’s a model, it’s unnecessary to point out how he’s in awful good shape and makes everyone beside him look like a fucking (fat and not fit) potato. And no, Louis is by no means jealous that Zayn only needs to blink and has literal ten –if not more– people clinging at his arm for attention. Yeah, not jealous at all. But that’s seriously unfair, isn’t it?

“A friend of mine offered, because he owns, y’know, a company.” Zayn casually adds with a shrug of his shoulder, while leaning against Louis’ kitchen counter, observing Louis with his thoughtful and mysterious eyes, that have many times proven how they can draw everyone in. 

“A friend?” Louis snorts, amusement tinting his eyes, “A friend you shag? Or who wants to get in your pants?” Both guesses were rather likely, so Louis now returns the stare, as he takes a sip of his tea. 

“Mhm,” Zayn hums, a sly smirk forming on his lips, “The latter. He’s filthy rich though.” Zayn says, as though that explains it – _it_ being… whatever.

“Right,” Louis laughs, giving Zayn a nod as though he completely understands. Well, given the fact that they’ve known each other practically since they were 5 – and Louis is now 22, he does know Zayn very well, so in fact, _yes_ he did understand whatever Zayn’s twisted mind was referring to. 

“And the Irish tags along?” Louis questions and grins by the thought of the Irish, Niall Horan. Leave it to Niall to bring a smile onto Louis’ face. They, one could say, have a very special bond. And while Zayn, as cool as he comes off to be, is all about the emotion—feelings kind of level, Niall is bluntly spoken the guy one goes to when being bored, when needing a laugh, when needing… someone. Niall is there for you. In the most ridiculous way though, so unless you’re prepared do not go there. He brings funny to a whole new level.

“Yeah, you know Nialler… he wouldn’t miss out on any action-related thing. He’d kill us if we wouldn’t invite him.” Zayn shrugs his shoulders barely visible, glancing out the window for a moment, before returning Louis’ look again.

“True,” Louis snickers, agreeing instantly, mainly because it is indeed true. Niall is an action-junkie and obsessed with food, so share either not with him and he’ll hunt you down. Zayn and Louis both had their share of experiences on getting on Niall’s so called ‘bad side’, and it wasn’t pretty. While Niall can be the happiest of people walking this earth, he’s got two main things to tick him off – no food, no action. In case you’re responsible for either, run for the hills, you need a head-start.

“ _So_ , what’s the lad’s name that wants to shag ya?” Louis asks out of curiosity, setting his cup of tea aside, once finished and running a hand through Zayn’s black quiff, like literally only Louis is allowed to do – really, every other person would’ve been kicked in the nuts or hurt in other places that just _really_ hurt, and seeing as Zayn has got a black belt in Judo, Karate, _yes_ , the man can _hurt_ one pretty bad, when he wants to. Touch his _hair_ and he’ll _want_ to.

“Liam Payne.” Zayn grins smugly, because yes, that male is not unknown to the commoner’s world. 

Being educated enough to recognize the name Louis raises his eyebrows, trying not to gape at Zayn. “THE Liam Payne? Payne Industries and all? Payne Plaza Hotel? Payne, uh, Ikea?” he asks, running out of things to name, as he stares at Zayn in undeniable shock.

“That one,” Zayn grins, all smug and proud about himself, while watching Louis’ reaction in amusement. Snickering, Zayn adds “And he did NOT buy an Ikea, mate, what the hell?” he snorts, cackling at the thought. Wasn’t Ikea Swedish or something like that?! Norwegian?

“Shit mate. Talking of filthy rich.” Louis snorts, shaking his head. “The man is a fucking multi-billionaire!” Louis points out truthfully, giving Zayn a look. “Shit, he’s basically _the_ richer and better looking and less slutty version of Paris Hilton! Only that he’s responsible for his own success and doesn’t sell himself…” 

Zayn bursts into new laughter, holding onto Louis, while he stumbles forward, hurling with laughter. “S-shit…” he hisses, trying to calm himself, “Oh god… you did _not_ …” and then Zayn breaks into a new fit of laughter, clutching his stomach while shaking his head several times. “P-Paris… H-Hilton? R-really?!” Zayn barks out, shaking his head more. “Oh god Lou,” taking a deep breath, as he finally seems to collect himself and snickers. “Shit, worst comparison ever.” Zayn then says, refraining himself from laughing anymore, because his stomach already hurts. “Those aren’t the only differences, mate, really…” he then assures, grinning now. “Unlike Paris Hilton, Liam is actually a real nice lad. A bit touchy, but I’m used to that.”

Louis snorts, shaking his head. He teases with a joyous smile on his face “Oh, so you two are on first-name terms now?”

“Yeah, pretty much. He lets me and my friends visit his bungee jump-station-whatever after all. I think I owe him that much.” Zayn grins.

“Oh, you owe him that,” Louis smirks, “and a nice shag to finish the deal.” Louis adds, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. 

“Shut up.” Zayn laughs, pushing Louis slightly, who doesn’t really budge and pulls Zayn into a random hug. It’s not unusual though, so Zayn returns the embrace, mutters “idiot” clearly into Louis’ ear, to hear a wholehearted laugh in response. That’s the sound Zayn likes best.

 

*

“M’ home Haz…” Louis calls and slams the front door shut, only to be greeted with silence. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it really does. Sighing, Louis throws his jacket onto the chair – having practiced that a billion times, he’s perfected all; aim and angle and strength, so the jacket indeed lands safely on the chair. Without giving that a second thought though, Louis walks straight to his room, where his charger-cable is at. His iPhone has been dead since this afternoon, right before the bungee-jump, when he really wanted to make a picture of himself with all that safety-equipment. According to Zayn he looked ‘fucking adorable’, which only ticked Mr Multi-Billionaire “Just call me Liam” Payne off, because obviously he wanted Zayn’s attention on himself. Not that he was anything but polite, because indeed, he was really generous and polite and nice and many other positive attributes; just that Louis could see through the, sort of, act. As much as Liam is ‘not a bad guy’ –and Louis completely agrees to that statement– Liam is a man who doesn’t like sharing either, and is keen on getting what he wants. Which are both great characteristics for a man in his position, Louis reminds himself, so he can’t blame the lad. Saying “lad” because yes, Liam Payne barely turned 24 and is simply too young to be that rich and successful. Fucking prick. Yup, another person to _so_ _not_ be jealous of.

Once starting to charge his iPhone, it springs to life, lighting up. Waiting a few seconds, the iPhone is completely turned on and Louis can see the ‘a new text’ blinker on. So he goes to his inbox and checks who could possibly text him. It’s Harry.

_Oh_. He’s got chatted up by some guy in a coffee shop. And he’s going out with him tonight. That’s… _oh_.

Louis swallows the lump in his throat. Tells himself that as long as Harry is happy, Louis can pretend to be too. Because actually _being_ happy with a Harry that is into some coffee-shot-guy is just… unbearable. Louis repeats his mantra of “As long as Harry is happy, you are too because…” but cracks in the middle, because. No. No! Not true! Fuck the “as long as he’s happy” because, in the end he always comes home – sad! So he _isn’t_ even happy. Is fucking _not_. So that also means, Louis doesn’t need to accept the fact that Harry keeps going to date after date with no great –hell– not even a _good_ or _any positive_ result whatsoever. 

Louis takes a shallow breath, pulls out a bottle of Belvedere from under his bed, which he’s stored for “worse nights” and opens it. This is definitely one of the “worse nights” – even though yes, his day was great, but coming home to a text like Harry’s and his whirlwind of thoughts about how fucking messed up all is, turns all good things bad. He takes a shallow breath, gets himself a mug and the huge 2l bottle of Belvedere (a pretty pricy vodka), he takes a seat on the couch and starts the drinking even before he turns on the TV.

 

*

When Louis hears the door slam shut, he giggles for no reason, staring at the muted TV as the commercials kept flickering past him, without really caring. He’s long passed ‘buzzed’ or ‘drunk’, Louis Tomlinson is very much pissed out of his mind. And he likes it. He feels light and when he stumbles to the door to greet Harry, because, that’s what he wants to do, he only falls _once_ – Which is great, because Harry hurries to his side and it spares him quite a few feet of walk. Plus, his living room’s light has a never-known flicker of green and blue… and Harry’s face is so soft and he has got some blue spots on his cheek, where Louis never noticed blue before. And the colour changes to something like purple and yellow, or is it orange? And it’s so nice… so _so_ nice. And he’s got… _funny_ , he’s got three, four, five, six… eyes? No, are these eyes? Or mouths? Louis touches Harry’s face in reach, laughing, when feeling no eye, where it looks like there is. Or does it? Louis laughs again, loud and obnoxious. 

“Hazzabeeeaaar…” Louis slurs, mindlessly touching Harry’s face all over, because he wants to. 

Harry bites his bottom lip in response, looking around the living room to observe the amount of alcohol, to find only one empty bottle of beer. _Huh_ , odd. Louis is a heavy drinker. It’s not like him to be drunk with one bottle of beer. Hell, that’s not even fucking possible with Louis! No, there’s _something_ off, Harry observes, helping Louis up properly, while the latter keeps yanking at Harry’s sides making the short trip to the couch rather hard on both of them.

Harry finally drops Louis onto the couch, not bothering to tell Louis to stay put, because the latter wouldn’t listen either ways. Harry finds himself walking slowly to the kitchen and trying to find what beverage could’ve forced this, well, _situation_. His eyes instantly narrow on the bottle beside the trashcan – possibly because it’s about 3ft fall and well, _empty_. Shit. _2l_ of expensive _vodka_ , really? Oh god, then it’s no surprise that Louis is pissed out of his damn brain. Of course he’d be. Harry hurries back, only to have Louis smiling adoringly at him. He raises his eyebrows because a drunk Louis is usually all annoying and obnoxiously energetic – like sober-states really, only that the drunk one has no (literally _no_ ) boundaries at all. If you let him, he’ll jump onto a police officer just for the fun of it, throw his bed out the window and do other shit things that Harry swore, he won’t let Louis repeat, _ever_!

Bailing him out of prison five times is bad enough, really – and so ironic for a famous author like Louis. Which author – in the history of authors! – is known for doing shit when getting pissed drunk? And getting arrested for it? Yeah, _none_! Louis is the only exception, of fucking course.

“God, Lou…” Harry whispers, worry lacing his voice, when just grows aware of how much alcohol his best mate had drunk. That’s by no means healthy. Hell, he could have alcohol intoxication with that kind of extreme amount! God, people sell 0,7l vodka bottle for a reason! And _normal_ people don’t even down THAT by themselves but in a group of like, 3 or 4 and shit, shit, shit!

A cold shudder runs down Harry’s spine, as his breathing hitches. He needs to call someone, anyone, to calm him down, because just now his nerves go on overdrive and he imagines the worst case scenarios – which he really shouldn’t be imagining. Seriously, he shouldn’t. But god, Louis looks just about knocked out and well… oh fuck!

Everything happens at once, Harry praying for Louis to be just dead- _asleep_ and he hastily pulls out his iPhone and calls Zayn on speed-dial, because he can’t possibly think with the option of Louis… no, he can’t think like this. 

 

*

Zayn smiles assuring at Harry, patting the curly head, as Harry stares blankly at Louis. “All’s good, mate… Lou is just pissed out of his mind.” Zayn assures, not wanting to worry the curly lad, because yes, despite the fucking huge amount of alcohol in Louis’ system, Zayn only needs to do the general check-ups to be convinced that the older lad will be fine. Or _is_ , only a bit knocked out. _More_ than a bit. Zayn did not study medicine for nothing. Which is ironic, seeing as Zayn is one of the most successful models right now out there – and he’s got a degree in medicine. So even _if_ he ever alters to a point, where his age can’t allow him to model anymore, he’d be safe and sound and get a job as a doctor – he’s got all necessary licences and if necessary he’d simply open his own small place. He’s got enough money to cover that. Plus, there’s no place a doctor isn’t welcome, really.

Harry stares at Louis, wants to remember every inch of skin, every curve of his body, every fucking damn hair of his eyelashes and he wants to curl up in a ball and cry in a corner about how relieved he is and about what a fucking scare Louis gave him. Harry hates Louis for making him feel like this – so scared, lonely and terrified of losing him. Harry hates that Louis has that much control over him, to leave him shaking and mentally dying, when Louis apparently is only ‘knocked out’, like Zayn had called it, and Harry hates himself for not able to take his eyes off that beautiful creature that he calls his best mate. Hates himself more than anything in the world, because his feelings aren’t all as platonic as he makes himself believe they are. He isn’t successful at fooling himself though, too aware of his ever growing feelings for the feathery-haired boy that tonight gave him the scare of his life. Harry reminds himself of all the reasons they would never be together for. He knows he isn’t good for Louis. And he knows he hurts Louis, each time he says that. _God_ , Harry wants anything less than _hurt_ Louis. The mere thought has him hurting, but Louis is too… bright, too _perfect_. Too _good_ for someone like Harry. And knowing this is what’s best, Harry will continue to try to convince Louis of very much that. No matter how much he hurts himself with pushing Louis’ open and inviting arms away, it’s what’s _right_. And Harry shall be doomed, if he breaks upon want and desire and gives in to Louis’ perfection. No matter how big the craving and temptation, Harry keeps in mind what’s best. Hell, he’s got it inked into his wrist to remind him each day. Two small words “ _What’s Best_ ” in curvy letters on his left wrist, hidden to the world below his long sleeved shirts. A reminder of why he’s doing what he’s doing. _Why_ he pushes away the only lad he’s ever loved. Because it’s right. It’s what’s best.

“Harry?”

Harry forces himself to look at Zayn, only after grasping Louis’ limp hand to keep the connection with the older lad going, his eyes barely meeting Zayn’s. 

“Lou will be fine,” Zayn’s soothing baritone sounds, honey gold eyes twinkling with sympathy and certainty and assurance, and Harry is struck with how he is grateful to have someone like Zayn in his life. 

Nodding is all Harry can do, emerald jade eyes hopefully saying what he can’t currently express, as he then turns his head back to Louis’ limp body, taking a low breath. “He must.” Harry finally whispers in response, squeezing the awfully cold hand of the usually energetic one of the two, willing himself not to sob. Louis will be fine, so he can’t fucking sob over nothing. He can’t show that he’s just desperate for Louis to wake up, to see the depths of beautiful cobalt and to fucking see Louis alive and happy and bright and sun-alike. God, he’s been missing on the sun that is Louis’ presence. He’s too busy with his job and his dates. 

_Louis’ smile_ , brighter than the sun, more blinding and more mesmerizing and warm, god Harry misses it. It feels as though, he has not seen that dazzling smile in too long. Too fucking long. And he wants it. Needs it. Much more than breathing. Craves it. And Harry feels so very lost without it. _So_ very lost. 

Patting Harry’s head, Zayn then gets off the floor, where he was seated beside Louis to check his temperature and what not, and to convince himself and Harry that indeed, Louis is taking the alcohol rather well and that he shall be up and fine – as fine as _massively_ hang-over-ed means – and on about everything as always. And happy, Zayn adds for emphasize, when Harry doesn’t react, before realizing that, _no_ , Louis won’t be happy. This ‘Larry-situation’ has been going at it, since Harry and Louis were roommates in uni. Zayn highly doubts that Louis can take much more. It would explain his little party of pity and alcohol by himself. And the late night call of Harry’s frantic and hysteric shouts that Zayn did not get a word of, but that convinced him off jumping out of bed and putting on a hoodie and jeans over his only boxer-covered body and speed on the highway to Larry’s flat. And it explains how Zayn is now sitting here, assuring Harry over and over that Louis will be fine in the morning and that all’s good. _Shit_ is good, _nothing_ is fucking _good_ and Zayn knows it. But it’s not his place to say. Even though little –or _not_ _so little_ – of him wants to punch Harry in the fucking damned face. No matter how close Zayn and Harry have grown, Louis will always be Zayn’s first priority. Louis is, _fuck_ , he’s closer than his brother, he’s basically Zayn’s _other half_. And _everyone_ – in this case _Harry_ – to hurt Louis, no matter in what way, deserves to feel pain. So much pain that they shall never dare hurt Louis again. Zayn knows he _can_ hurt Harry pretty bad. They’re about the same height –which given the fact that Zayn can kick literally to the top of his head’s level– makes things all too easy for the champ of martial arts. And _hell_ , Harry is only stubborn, he’s got a bit of muscles and abs, but Zayn is certainly no comparison – being a model and all, he’s earning his living with his body, thus it’s _perfect_ , really. It’s only a pro that Zayn knows _how_ to use every muscle in his body to _hurt_. To cause fucking pain that will last. Adding to that how he’s a doctor, and knows, even without martial art skills, how to effectively make Harry unable of ever fathering children –without stabbing into his dick with a knife– or how to make the pain last longest, just by logic of what he’s learned in uni, Zayn is a force to fear. And right now, he tries desperately _not_ to see red, because, no matter how miserable Harry right now is being, _Louis_ has been miserable for _4 years_ straight. Zayn has watched the situation long enough, so if he doesn’t go now, he might do something he’ll regret. Something he’ll badly regret. Something that might upset Louis, because it involves Harry screaming out – and _not_ in pleasure, that’s for sure. 

 

*

It has never occurred before. Harry waking up to an empty bad. Some-when along the night, Harry has crawled into Louis’ bed – where Zayn has placed Louis for safety keeping – and well, has wrapped a secure arm around Louis’ torso and cuddled into his side and fallen asleep, only to wake up alone. 

Usually Harry is up quite early, and then he has to leave for work, but today is different. Today Harry is the one left alone and not the one leaving. And today, that realization hurts more than it should. Harry realizes, being the one left behind sucks. It sucks and hurts. And Harry doesn’t _want_ to think of how many times he’s done that to Louis, doesn’t want to realize that he’s probably hurt Louis much more than he’d been _ever_ aware of doing. 

Harry shakes his head, trying not to think at all, as he pushes himself off the bed, looking around. Louis’ room looks as messed up as ever, and while that sight should assure Harry of everything being _okay_ , he has an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. Trying to distract himself from that, he rushes to the bathroom to freshen up and get ready for the day ahead of him. With a new date. Drew’s the name. It’s the guy from Starbucks. Really cute, honest hazel eyes, nice smile and really, he’s _fit_. So far, Harry can’t think of any con and he likes that. Wants to bathe in the feeling of maybe having found a person decent and worth starting a partnership with. And then he thinks of Louis again and all happiness leaks from him, like water running down the drain. He doesn’t want to, but he does often think of what it’d be like to date Louis. But the thoughts are wrong and they only hurt him. So he cuts his thoughts short and texts Drew instead, because that’s easy and simple and it doesn’t cause his heart to ache in a painful manner, like thoughts of Louis always do. 

‘ _I can’t wait for our 2_ _nd_ _date xx -H_ ’ Harry types and then sends, biting his bottom lip. Harry is not one to lie to himself, and if he’s being all honest, that text sounded so fake, so much like Harry tries convincing _himself_ into wanting to go to their second date, even though there’s nothing wrong with the lad just yet. Ha, _yet_! Harry _expects_ to find a false. _Wants_ to find something bad. Just so he can come home with his head hanging and have Louis take care of him. Because that’s what he really wants, for Louis to take care of him, like Louis so amazingly manages. At least _most_ of the nights. And the nights he doesn’t, Harry feels more lonely than ever and he wants to cry, because he shouldn’t be feeling like that without Louis, shouldn’t miss him like that. And bloody hell, certainly shouldn’t put on one of his favourite shirts – because they happen to be Louis’ favourites of Harry’s shirts and he wore that one most, so his scent rubbed off on it and… Harry is bluntly spoken so pathetic, he is embarrassed, but he can’t find it in him to _not_ sleep with that shirt in his arms, because the scent –if only faint– is enough to keep him at peace. Also, it’s ironic, how the ever nudist Harry Edward Styles, sleeps cuddling with one of his own shirts, isn’t it? Well, irony being how that shirt already half belongs to Louis and he wants to cuddle with Louis and misses him so much, he could cry, and hates himself because all is wrong and Harry sucks and he can’t… can’t have Louis. Can’t make him happy, like he craves doing. Can’t touch him all the time, like he itches doing. Can’t… just can’t _have him_.

 

*

“So,” Niall drawls out the word, Irish accent thick and lovely as ever. “What do you think of that little affair Zayn’s got going with that Mr. Payne?” he asks casually, leaning across the table and smiling openly at Louis as he takes another sip of his milkshake, waiting for his fourth slice of cake. He loves cake. Hell, loves every kind of food. And while waiting, he shoves some crisps into his mouth, and grins expectantly at Louis opposite from him, who is so used to that sight that he simply laughs in response. 

“Eh,” Louis just utters, shrugging, “He seems,” Louis pauses and for the lack of a better word, settles for “okay enough.” And that’s already it. He can’t really say he thinks Liam Payne is good for Zayn, but he isn’t bad for him either. Zayn is an adult – as much as him and Louis combined don’t act like adults at all – and he can make his own decisions. Louis trusts that Zayn will do the right choices, when the time comes. He isn’t stupid – explains his doctor title in medicine and _well_ , his degree too. Also, to be accepted into medicine study course in uni at all – definitely not stupid. 

Niall snorts, halting the hand full of crisps in mid-air, “Wow,” he breathes out, snickering, “You’re really fond of him, eh?” he jokes, leaning forward to meet Louis’ deep cobalt depths directly.

Louis shrugs, admittedly this is one of the calmest and most normal and casual Louis has ever met Niall as, “Yeah, well… not much to tell, really. Liam Payne is filthy rich, eye-candy and so far treating Zayn well. Hell, he so bends over for Zayn’s attention it’s almost pathetic.” Seeing Niall’s look, Louis adds with a smirk, “Adorable, though. Pathetic in the most adorable way.”

And Niall laughs at that, because they both know, yes Liam is very much desperate for Zayn. And Zayn knows it too. It’s hard for a model not to grow too conceited with the given attention and compliments. And in Zayn’s case the given natural beauty is just… hard to not take advantage of. When being adored and worshiped like Zayn doubtlessly is, by not only Liam but many.

“Yeah, yeah,” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, “Adorable, my ass.”

“Seriously, he _is_!” Louis insists, smirking back. “The way, he’d even suck him off in public, when Zayn would ask… _that_ ’s real dedication for ya!” so what, Louis pulls fun of his friends. He does that all the time. Zayn wouldn’t mind. Hell, Louis is sure the former ‘Bradford bad boy’ would go along with it. Even in Liam’s presence, because that’s how they roll. 

The famous author, who got into prison for 5 times, the nation’s most famous male model and the Irish bloke that might or might not be a Lord. What a combination. They ‘roll’ differently than normal people do, and that’s probably why they always got on so well – that and the fact that Louis and Zayn had been attached to the hip from day one of about 17 years ago, while Niall tagged along a lot later. Which is in College, so he’s came around the same time Harry did. The three of them had been now officially friends for 5 years – that is counting for Niall.

Niall, as loud and obnoxious as he easily gets, is quite gifted when it comes down to reading others, which he may not show most of the time, and it often gets lost in-between his adorable bright smiles and fun and laughter that he spreads. But he is, probably, one of the most observing lads ever. Also, right now, Niall is very aware of Louis being in a horribly bad mood – even though Louis does one fantastic job hiding it. To people who even know him. They believe it, because, really, his performance of amusement, happiness, hell _joy_ , is worth a fucking Oscar. Can’t fool Niall’s sky blue eyes though. 

But Niall won’t pinpoint it – probably he could easily guess what all’s about, but he won’t. He will pretend to be the clueless Irish he gets stamped as, will be all smiles and will be happy, until Louis smiles genuinely and laughs genuinely, no matter how hard the attacks will be, that Niall mentally prepares to make. 

So Niall laughs, loud and obnoxious, dropping his crisps by total accident in the process, and his laughter dies midsentence, when his eyes dart to the ground, where his crisps are scattered, broken and not very edible anymore. Niall cries out in horror, eyes wide with disbelief and shock, while Louis starts chuckling. He throws his hand in the air, horrified and bends down to pick them up, whispering sweet nothings to the crisps and assuring them –each of them– how ‘everything will be fine’ and that ‘daddy is here’. 

Louis cackles over, almost knocks his drink down, while leaning forward to laugh whole-heartedly. Clutching his stomach, he tries to calm himself, half expecting Niall to kiss each crisp to ‘make the pain go away’ and the thought is so ridiculous, and so _possible_ , so _Niall_ , that Louis finds himself laughing harder, shaking his head and caught up in his own fit of laughter. 

In his ridiculously loud laughter, Louis misses Niall doing exactly that, before placing them on a tissue and slowly covering it. Niall sniffs, sheds a tear, and then closes his eyes for a brief second –maybe going a bit overboard and being unnecessarily dramatic– and mutters a low “May you all rest in peace, babies.” And his voice sounds so genuine, so sincere that Louis cackles over anew, bursting into loud, probably quite obnoxious laughter, clutching his stomach hard and leaning his head onto the table. The situation is so ridiculous, so _Niall_ , that Louis just wants to run over to Niall and pull the Irish into a bone-crushing hug. Because this is what he needs. Special Niall on Louis time. Well, not literal _on_ each other time, but… yeah.

Niall smiles –all bright and adorable– when seeing Louis wipe his eyes from the amount of laughing, slowly calming himself.

“Shit mate,” Louis whispers, barely controlling the chuckles, “you’re… the best.” And Louis smiles. So bright, so genuine, as though Niall is the best and makes him happiest, that Niall’s heart swells in his chest and the Irish reminds himself that Louis is in love with Harry and falling for this beautiful feathery haired boy would complicate things so _so_ much. 

And when Louis reaches across the table, squeezing his hand with so much gratitude and sparkle in his beautiful cobalt eyes, Niall feels his heart drop with the realization that all warning comes too late. He’s fallen. Fallen for this beautiful, heartbreakingly insane and perfect feathery haired, cobalt eyed boy. And he can’t do anything to undo it. Too fucking late for that. 

And Niall wants to laugh, wants to cry, because he’s _always_ wanted to be in love. Love is great, they say, right? Well, but _not like this_. Not in love with someone who can’t return the feelings. Not with _Louis_. And yet, he is. He’s heard before that people ‘can’t help who they fall for’, but he’s never expected himself to _ever_ enter a situation, where that thought would flicker through his mind. Love is great, love is beautiful, he tells himself, always, and now he wonders, why the hell he must fall for Louis. Why _now_ , out of all times. And… he wants to be mad at himself, because for someone who can read anyone and anything so bloody well, Niall had been awfully clueless about himself and his own feelings. 

Starting to think of it, insisting on taking Louis’ hand as they jump down that bumgee-jump-station together… Was that _really_ because he was scared? No, it wasn’t. Niall is all about the thrill and excitement in those actions and he isn’t the least scared. Didn’t want to cuddle Louis to pieces either, when he saw him in that huge safety equipment covering him and all and didn’t want to snog him breathless and senseless, because… because he is Louis. _No_ , not at all. 

Or it wasn’t like that _back then_. But it is now. And Niall is aware of it. And shit, being aware makes the craving _so_ _much_ stronger. So when Louis smiles, all bright and expectant and just— _irresistible_ , Niall mindlessly leans across and kisses Louis right on the lips. It’s merely a brush of their lips, until Niall slips his hands, from across the small table around Louis’ neck and pulls him close, deepening it. And shit, it feels… heavenly. Niall knows, he could die now on the spot – happy. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis is overwhelmed by the happenings in his life. And.. oh just read the 2nd chapter, will you?? :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said that only the "first chapter" is gonna be a bore, but I can't seem to find the whole story that much of an excitement.. haha.. so I still try to assure you that it'll get better, but.. yeah, I will always try, so give me at least credit for that, yeah? ;))  
> Anyways, this story is somewhat based on Larry, but so loosely, that it doesn't just ignore the side couples and i think everything mixes together quite nicely, so I'll keep it like that.. keep switching from--- oh never mind, just read, will you? :D  
> And if you like, please leave a comment.. kudos is nice, but I love love love comments :) (the longer the better... haha)

Zayn glances absent-mindedly at Liam, smiles when he should and otherwise is completely focused on Louis and what he might be doing right now. He knows that he’s being overprotective of Louis, but he’s his best friend. His best(est) friend, who is on the verge of breaking and Zayn just _needs_ to do something about it.

“Zayn?”

And Zayn looks up, meets Liam’s eyes and places that perfectly sweet smile on his lips again, his honey gold eyes soft and kind, “Yeah?” And he’s one hell of an actor, that’s for sure.

“You’re distracted,” Liam observes, taking a low breath, “Are you… already tired of me?” Liam is not oblivious to the dozen articles he’s read about Zayn and his affairs. According to them Zayn loses interest quite easily and pretty fast, because he’s only seen with the same person for about the timespan of one week, before he’s then photographed with another person. With both, male and female Zayn has been too many times linked to, and Liam likes believing that those are all false accusations, but Zayn has already admitted that half of them, at least, are true.

“No,” and now Zayn forces his attention fully onto Liam, biting his bottom lip slightly. “No, not at all,” he adds, smiling to seem assuring. “I’m sorry, I was just in thought.” He apologizes, batting his eyelashes just a little bit more than is natural, not failing to cause the wanted effect. Liam inhales sharply, his hazel eyes flickering to Zayn’s lips for a brief moment.

“Uh, no… I just…” Liam finds himself short of breath, and he somewhat likes it. Zayn is the first person that has made Liam feel like this, so nervous and like a silly school girl and it’s so nice that Liam wants to embrace the feeling of being completely pathetically into someone else. Wants to hold onto that feeling for as long as he can, because Zayn makes him feel so… happy, and it’s a feeling Liam refuses going without. So for as long as Zayn will pretend or claim to like Liam and how he wants to spend time with him, Liam will accept it and take all.

Zayn smiles, unwillingly he finds himself growing fond of Liam. He knows that his management wanted him to ‘bond’ with Liam, and due to their order he did exactly that, but now that he’s grown quite a bit closer with Liam, he isn’t so sure that he wants to ‘use’ Liam like that. Liam is nice, he’s kind, sweet, maybe a bit possessive, but that’s somewhat cute and well, he’s really into Zayn. He is really _really_ into Zayn. Probably a lot more than Zayn thought possible within a time spam of one week, but it’s the case. Zayn then places his hand slightly on Liam’s, “You really like me, don’t you?”

Liam is not one to lie. In fact, Liam may not be the most open of persons, but Zayn makes him want to be. “Well, yeah.” And Liam smiles slightly, “I really like you.” And Liam’s smile falters a little, “but I have the feeling you don’t return my feelings… are you just,” and Liam halts, not knowing whether he wants to hear the answer to what he doesn’t really want to ask, “are you just stringing me along?”

Zayn snorts, not able to hide it. Liam couldn’t be more wrong. Yes, Zayn may be a bit indifferent most of the time, but no, he’s not just ‘stringing Liam along’. “No, Liam,” Zayn smiles, placing his hand on Liam’s. “Don’t worry, I’m not that kind of guy.” Trying to lighten the mood, a playful smirk forms on his lips and he adds in a teasing manner, “Besides, if I happen to grow tired of you, I’ll let you know, so rest assured.”

Liam looks anything but relieved. If anything his lips tighten and his hazel eyes fill with concern. Liam doesn’t like to be fairly that easy and controllable, but it’s not like he can help it. It’s Zayn and he’s head over heels for him.

“Oh god, _Liam_ ,” Zayn chuckles, both amused and irritated with Liam’s behaviour, “Don’t worry,” he repeats, leaning closer, until Liam’s and his foreheads are touching. “ _Don’t worry_ , you idiot.” He laughs and then he closes the small gap between them, pressing his lips to Liam’s. “I like you too.” He whispers, keeping their lips connected as he smiles now. And he says all with so much emotion, so much affection that Liam finds himself returning the wide smile.

“ _Your_ idiot,” he breathes back, so relieved, so happy, that he leans forward, pressing their lips together again. That brief moment that their lips were connected for the first time just now, Liam had felt something. Felt a tingling sensation on his lips, and as if to make sure the feeling was real, he just has to try it again.

Zayn grins, keeping the kiss sweet and simple, while moving his lips in sync with Liam’s, as he places his hand carefully behind Liam’s neck before slowly pulling aware. “Yes,” he laughs light-heartedly, because he likes this somewhat difficult, idiotically silly, somewhat possessive and adorable man. “ _My_ idiot, indeed.”

The smile Liam in return grants him with is so pure, so sweet, that it has Zayn breathless. And yes, it isn’t a lie, Zayn likes Liam too.

 

*

“Why… do I have at least a _dozen_ of Niall’s calls on my iPhone, on which he goes all frantic and stupid about your whereabouts?” Zayn asks, after entering his own flat, aware of Louis’ presence the moment he slams the door shut. Within seconds he arrives at his room, where he finds his so-called best mate curled into a ball of blankets and misery.

“I clearly missed,” for the lack of better words, Zayn takes a seat beside the ball of blankets and misery, and finishes with “ _something_.” His voice underlining the last word, as he narrows his eyes at the ball of blankets. “Come out, will ya?”

“This is horrible.” Louis mutters in a muffled sound to himself, barely audible through the amount of blankets and from outer view not moving at all.

“ _What_ exactly is?” Zayn inquires, cocking his head to the side, while firmly gripping the blanket and swiftly pulling it off of Louis. Unintentionally he always causes Louis to fall on top of him – he hasn’t figured that the blankets were cocooned around his best mate, and well… yeah, the result.

Letting out a chortled laugh Zayn looks up, meeting bright blue eyes that seem confused. “You don’t look as… devastated as pictured.” Zayn points out; his lips curving already into that awful smile that he can’t seem to wipe of his face ever since his last date with Liam today.

“You look awfully happy.” So Louis isn’t that self-absorbed not to notice that shining look in Zayn’s chocolate eyes, and he isn’t as stupid to shake that off as a simple mood either. Even if Louis is genuinely happy to see Zayn all smiles and bright, his situation does dim his excitement for his best mate. “Niall, he, uh…” now Louis finds this hard to say. Should he just, like, go for it?

“What about the Irish?” Zayn inquires, ignoring what Louis had mentioned before, considering Louis had dismissed that thought after having said it aloud.

“He, uh, well…” here goes nothing, Louis takes a deep breath, looking into Zayn’s eyes, “He kissed me. On the lips. And, uh, we… well, made out.”

Out of all things possible, Zayn had not been expecting that at all. Eyes wide, he faces the feathery haired boy with incredulity, “Wait, _what_?!”

Yeah, okay. So maybe Louis had been hoping for a more silent reaction. Had hoped not to be screamed at. But what follows is Zayn loudly shouting at Louis and calling him names, from which nice things like ‘idiotic moron’ are not on the list. And Louis really doesn’t understand why. So when he says so and shares his exact part of the story, Zayn grows louder and nearly whacks him in the head, which –given Zayn’s strength– is a proper punishment and hurts like fuck.

“Are you out of your goddamned mind?!” Zayn finishes his shouting off, breathing heavily by now, as he glares down at the Doncaster boy that looks about frightened. When did they switch positions, anyway?

“God, Louis…” Zayn shakes his head, breathing out heavily, trying to regain his composure. “How _could_ you?!”

“How could _I_?” Louis finally responds, cobalt eyes widening, “ _Niall_ came onto me. Not opposite, so how is this now my fault?!” he asks, irritated that Zayn obviously sees him at fault. Even though, he clearly isn’t. He’s so fucking _not_ at fault for this messed up situation.

“Good god!” Zayn half-curses, shaking his head. “Are you THAT oblivious? Really?” he doesn’t wait for a response, getting closer to Louis’ face in anger, as he continues, “the poor lad is head over heels for you! He’s—” he breathes out angrily, “God, Louis, he’s got the purest heart and the most romantic bone in him! Don’t,” he shakes his head, not knowing what to say. “Don’t break him, please.” And he sounds so genuinely upset by now, that Louis just wants to cry.

Louis can somewhat see where Zayn is coming from now. He can, yes. But… what is he supposed to do? Dating Niall out of pity? That’s so much more wrong, really. Louis can’t possibly do that. “I just…” Louis is helpless of any response, when meeting Zayn’s eyes and seeing exactly what both of them can’t properly express. The few perks of knowing each other for one and a half decades.

“What do I do, Zayn?” Louis whispers, despite aware that both know what he is mentally going through.

Zayn half-smiles, because Louis is being as helpless as ever –a characteristic Zayn had grown awfully fond off– and keeps his attention on the cobalt depths. “How about…” and he falls short on a good answer, because, really the situation is very twisted with Niall and Louis, but adding Harry to that combination and we got a God-given great mess. Just great.

Louis shakes his head slowly, “Y’know I love Niall, just not… I don’t think I could ever live with myself, if I’d hurt him in any way,” he tries smiling and fails miserably, “And dating him out of pity would hurt him. Hell, it’d hurt anyone.” Louis shakes his feathery hair, “This sucks.”

“Indeed, it sucks that you got the great ability to turn heterosexuals into, well, in love with you, so partly either bi or gay. You poor little thing,” and Zayn can’t bite back on the sarcasm, because it doesn’t sound so bad to be loved, preferably by one person, only.

Louis chokes out a pitiful sound that merely resembles his laugh, “It’s not like… I’m trying to turn anyone gay, or whatever,” he finally replies, breathing out slowly. “It’s… how could this happen? How did my life turn into such a mess?”

“It’s always been a mess, babe,” Zayn replies, dropping himself next to Louis on the ground with a thud, exhaling slowly, “You just remained blissfully oblivious for most of the part, until your wake-up call.”

 

*

Zayn leans his head against the wall as he stares down at his iPhone, re-reading the text and pondering what to reply. He usually is quite instinctive, but this once, he really doesn't know what to reply. He's got enough on his plate with the Harry-Louis-Niall-love-triangle and now this.

 

**From: Sarah, 9:23**

**Zayn, it's decided that you may stop 'seeing' Liam Payne now. Break it off publicly, so it draws attention. Breaking a billionaire's heart will not only give you more attention, it'll make you unambiguously available. Next Saturday and the fashion show, after-show party. You can either tell him or surprise him – that's up to you, but the paps arrive at 8. You have to time it later than 8:30 at least.**

 

Zayn feels his insides clench, closes his hands and opens them in tight fists and reads the text over and over again, as though it might change or vanish from his sight completely. He's got no such luck. He swallows slowly and lets out the breath, glancing at the lump on his couch, briefly considering to consult Louis. The thought is instantly brushed aside though, when Louis' miserable pale face peaks out from the blanket and Zayn shakes his head, knowing he shouldn't concern his friend with his personal drama, when he's got a lot going on as it is.

Zayn may be friends with Harry, but by no means is he close enough to come to him for advice. Clearly, Liam is the wrong person to approach. He would freak out and, only god knows, what he'd do. That leaves only Niall. It was about time the two had a proper chat anyways.

So he texts his Irish friend and walks to the front door, exiting without Louis so much as flinching by the slamming sound of the door.

 

*

Harry breathes out slowly, stares at his iPhone and feels his insides dying a little. This has never happened before. Louis always is home. He's always home, when Harry comes home from one of his miserable dates. He's there to catch him when he falls, to take the pain away, to smile and light up Harry's world and – why isn't he here now?

The curly-haired lad shuffles around the room, tries to busy himself with anything, really. Breathes in and out slowly and glances at the clock right beside their flat-screen TV. He lets out a breathless sigh, realization hitting him that Louis never came home. The sunlight started flooding his living room hours ago, when he was pacing around the living room, lost in worries, concerns, thoughts revolving around the feathery-haired boy that dominated his thoughts.

He didn't text him, didn't leave any form of message to let him know that he's not going to be home. He can't have... gone to some guy's place, right? Louis doesn't... he's... he's not supposed to.

Harry's head hurts with burning thoughts of Louis and another guy – _is_ Louis even fully gay?– or another girl fucking in a hotel and Harry wants to cry, because Louis just _can't_. He's not fucking allowed, alright? He's _not_. Louis is Harry's and no-one else's. His only.

So why isn't he home? Why isn't Louis welcoming him in his unusually big bear-hugs that surround Harry warm and safely and make him feel content and happy.

Harry glances once more at his iPhone that has not blinked once with a _new text_ or an _incoming call_ , nothing. _Nothing_. Louis is about missing and, fuck, what if--

Just then the door bell rings and Harry about leaps to it, in hope of finding Louis safe and sound outside their house and having forgotten his key for one of his silly reasons, such as ' _I dropped it in the bathtub and left it there_ ' or his silly ' _it looked so shiny, I didn't want to make it dirty by carrying it around_ '. Those kind of excuses that made everything so endearingly Louis. And Harry is so fond of that idiot, so in utter love, that he has a heart time breathing, when reaching for the door handle and opening it fast, about ready to pounce onto the person standing in front of him.

Sky blue eyes meet his, accompanied by a nervous crooked smile, “Hi,” Irish accent echoes through the silence, “Is Lou there?” Niall finally asks and stares right back at Harry, who looks about ready to burst into tears.

Irrationally, Harry is aware that he has no right to act like he does, he doesn't have any right to love Louis like this, to want him like this, but it's hard to prevent it, hard to ignore feelings, when it revolves Louis. Stupidly adorable, irresistible, perfect Louis.

On animalistic instinct, Harry wants to hiss that “No, Louis is not there, so piss off” because he's always had the odd feeling that Niall might be having feelings for Louis, and no, Harry is by no means willing to share Louis with Niall, even _**if**_ _Niall is a great guy that can make Louis laugh and happy_ and--- Harry really wants to punch Niall's face right now. Just because. And he can't bring himself to feel any form of sorry for the strong urge that makes his fists itch. He really is possessive. Then again, this side of his is triggered by Louis only.

“No, he's not...” Harry settles for replying, eyes the Irish, sizes him up and down and adds a not too kind, “Why?”

Niall looks about as uncomfortable, as Harry looks irritated, as he runs his hand through his blond-dyed hair he sighs softly, “I really need to talk to him and I couldn't reach his cell, so I was hopin'...” he trails off, glances at Harry helplessly, “Hopin' he was home...?” he sounds uncertain, hesitant even, and he won't meet Harry's eyes. Each of those indications tell Harry a story he can't read and understand just yet. But it can't be something good, that's obvious.

“What happened.” his voice left no choice, no option. Harry never knew he could be scary, but by the low tone of his voice, the icy look in his eyes, he knew he must look quite intimidating to say the least. Their height difference, that usually never mattered or even got acknowledged, added to the empowering feeling, as Harry loomed over Niall, eyes a vivid emerald as he spoke.

Niall, obviously bracing himself for what feels like a little battle with Harry, lifts his head, enough to meet the emerald depths with his sky blue eyes and takes a slow breath, “That's none of your business, Harry.”

“If this is about Louis, it makes it my business.” Harry is fast to reply.

“So, he's not home, yeah?” Niall replies instead, ignoring Harry's attitude completely. Niall is tired, very fucking much exhausted, and hasn't had a wink of sleep, due to rolling on his bed from left to right, frowning and cursing himself for losing control like that, and hating himself even more for enjoying each and every minute of it. He knows Louis must be completely lost and confused and, above being maybe helplessly in love with the Doncaster boy, Niall is also his best friend. He should be there for him. He _would_ be there for him. If only he could find him, to help him talk the situation through, make it easier for him. But Louis obviously doesn't want to be found, obviously avoids Niall – and as it seems Harry too.

“No,” Harry replies, all energy that surged through him within his jealousy vanishing as sudden as it came, draining him and leaving him with his simple and utter misery. “No, he's not... and you don't... know where he's at either.” Harry continues, voice barely above a whisper.

Niall shakes his head, turns on his heels, “Alright... I, just... tell me when you see him, yeah? I really need to talk to him.” Niall replies, insists with a resigned voice and his eyes meet Harry for one last glance, before he retreats from the flat and makes his way down the front porch, just when his iPhone starts vibrating.

Harry watches Niall's retreating figure, until watching him stop in his tracks. Raising a brow, he simply continues watching, merely curious.

Niall unlocks his iPhone and sees Zayn's face blinking on his screen, indicating a new text. With a cock of his head, he opens the text.

 

**From: Zayn, 10:12**

**Tell me you r free? I gotta talk to a best mate. We gotta discuss the Lou thing too. Whether ur up for it or not. Its for both of your own goods. Be in royalgarden in 10? Ima wait. AND i'll hate you if you dont come!! Seriously. If your beer gets warm from waiting for you, you'll not be allowed to Lou ever. You know I can keep you away, so 10 MINUTES! 12 tops.**

 

Niall snorts, instinctively, images Zayn sitting in their favourite café over his usual morning tea –a habit he's taken over from Louis– and waiting next to a no-longer cold beer for Niall.

Taking off intro a sprint, he flits past many passengers, dodges his way through all of it, and arriving at the Royal Garden only 6 minutes later. He's quite athletic, if he may say so himself.

Taking a slow breath, Niall pushes through the glass door and glances around, taking in the humble, warm atmosphere this café always surrounds and smiles when spotting a male with a sharp jaw and cunning cheekbones in the back. Models do stand out. Making his way over to his overly successful and handsome friend, Niall takes a seat opposite from Zayn, taking in his features for another moment. From the plush lips to the straight nose, the long lashes that brush against his cheeks when he blinks, to the depths of chocolate to his gorgeous body, and of course that golden tanned skin. Zayn definitely stands out. He practically glows in the mass of average surrounding him. Niall isn't oblivious to the endless stream of stares he can feel on his back and the envious glares accompanying them.

“M'here,” Niall unnecessarily exclaims, when Zayn doesn't lift his head from his iPhone screen.

“Yeah,” Zayn's melodic voice finally replies, and he lifts his eyes enough, to take in Niall's miserable form. Niall never stands a chance against Zayn's godly looks, but usually he doesn't feel as bad about his own looks either. Today is especially bad, because Zayn looks as breathtaking as always, while Niall looks dead to the world. The contrast is too extreme, too surreal.

“So... you wanted to talk to me?” Niall wonders, because by no means does he want to start with the stupid love-triangle he unwillingly created, glancing at the beer that is steaming with cold air and grins.

Zayn knows him. He knows him like the back of his hand. And he knows that due to the Irish in his blood, he's simply destined to always drink alcohol, no matter what time of the day.

“I did, yeah,” Zayn starts off, sighs heavily before turning his iPhone and showing Niall his screen.

Niall's eyes rake over the screen, read the visible text once and then again, before glancing at Zayn for help. “Um, what... about that text?” he slowly wonders, raising an eyebrow. He's seen this kind of texts several times on Zayn's iPhones. In fact, he could scroll through Sarah's text-history and he'd find these kind of demands to no end. What surprises him though, is the face Zayn represented his iPhone screen with. He should know that the publicly created fling with the billionaire was just that, a fling. But Zayn seems positively miserable. As miserable as a Zayn Malik can look, with his model features and strong jawline and beaming chocolate-honey eyes.

“I... I don't _want_ to end it.” Zayn replies, speaking his feelings properly aloud to someone else than Liam and feeling exposed. He's not used to all this. To all this being open and letting his friends in on his secrets, kind of thing. Well, except for Louis. But their friendship lasted one and a half decades already. Louis could read him like an open book, even if he tried to hide it. Well, Louis could, if only he wasn't distracted with his own problems.

Niall stares at Zayn for several seconds –which feel like decades– before a smile –the first of the day– breaks widely across his face, splitting his face into two. “ _No way_ ,” he laughs then, shakes his head, sky blue eyes sparkling in excitement, “No _way_ ,” he repeats, staring Zayn down mercilessly with twinkling eyes.

“What,” Zayn breathes out exasperated, because Niall behaves like a proper idiot right now. An idiot, who knows something he won't share with Zayn. And it's annoying. It's positively obnoxious.

“ _Zayn_ fuckin' _Malik_ , you are _smitten_.”

 

*

Louis barely registers the vibration in his pockets, only reacts when it vibrates for the 14th time and merely pushes his hand up enough to reveal his blinking iPhone and sighing loudly. He has shut himself out from the world outside for as long as he could, but now he had to get back to reality. He knows that much, but actually pulling through with his intentions is a lot harder than it may seem.

His finger twitches over his iPhone's screen and he barely registers his own breath hitching, when the one name flashes in a strong red letters. _Harry_.

 

**From: Harry, 12:31**

**goin crazy. Lou wher r u? Come home. Miss you :/ my bed was cold when I slept. I... come home please? Please... I just... Lou please. I cant.. just come home. Need you. Xx -H**

 

Louis stares at the text and swallows dryly. Everything in him screams to go home and cuddle Harry and, well, make up for the missed warmth of last night. But he can't. He can't. This sick game that they have got going is spiralling out of control, slowly but inevitably Louis' heart is being torn and he can't have that, doesn't _want_ that. Can't deal with it. Jesus fuck, Louis isn't a selfish person, but this once, _just this once_ , he has to think of himself first.

Louis finds himself staring at his own reflection, before splashing more water into his face and breathing out slowly. _When the fuck did he get off the couch anyways_? Apparently when he's got Harry on his mind, everything else blurs away and when Louis has time to think and see what the fuck is happening right now, he finds himself outside their shared flat. _Oh_. Obviously his body knows what it wants better than his brain is willing to admit, because he's made it all the way from Zayn's flat to theirs without thinking at all, without so much as realizing that he's been walking at all. This is so fucked up, so sad and so clearly showing what his body and heart desires that he wants to drop to the ground, scream at the sky and cry, until he drowns in his own tears.

Drowning really wouldn't sound so bad at this point. It would release him from his shitty life. Only that it really isn't shitty, he's so damn blessed and such a spoiled brat for not acknowledging that, but fuck it, he really wants to _not_ live through all this fuck-up right now.

Before he has a chance to do anything though, anything as much as pulling out his house key or turning back around to run away, the door bursts open and he's tackled to the wet grass beside their pathway.

Louis groans, barely blinks, but immediately recognizes the inviting scent of his opposite, the fit body pressed to his own and can't help the soft sigh of relief that escapes his parted lips, when he feels those luscious curls overlapping his cheek and those plush lips brushing against the side of his neck. “Hey...” he whispers, voice soft and faint and he feels Harry's body shudder in response.

“Hi,” the younger boy whispers in response, voice sounding slightly wrecked, his gigantic body covering Louis' wholly, his face buried in Louis' shoulder, lips pressed to the skin he can reach and fingers automatically sliding between Louis', interlocking them.

Louis finds himself at home again. He's finally at home. And he smiles, because Harry is here and, well, fuck it, Harry is _here_. He is _with him_. He brushes his free fingers along Harry's long torso, listens to Harry's breath hitching, when his fingers find their way inside Harry's Henley and his fingers go the familiar trail up Harry's lean lower back.

“Where were you?” Harry whispers, voice sounding so wrecked, so young and so fucking vulnerable that Louis' heart clenches in his chest, when he feels those plush lips moving against his skin.

Louis breathes in slowly and out, because he doesn't want to look back. Doesn't want to remember the misery of when he was without Harry. He is here now. That's all that matters. And he tells Harry that much, breathes in a soft but relieved whisper, “I'm home now, babe.”

The reply is almost instant. Just a breath, mere words that express so much more than both are capable to hear, “Yeah, you are.” Harry's dimples press into Louis' shoulder blade and Louis, of course, smiles in response.

 

*

Liam stares at his iPhone and sighs. It's been two days without Zayn giving him so much as a response through a damned text and he's growing positively miserable as the time passes. Liam Payne doesn't get affected by people, he just doesn't. But obviously Zayn is the exception to the rule, because right now, Liam Payne is a bit dying and he's so drained from energy that he can't bring himself to even get up to work. Who would have thought, the loveless billionaire would end up love sick in his bed, wanting to not move, until he sees his 'boyfriend's' face again. It is pathetic on so many levels that Liam doesn't know what to do with himself.

“Sir?”

Liam glances up from his king-sized bed, frown engraved on his lips and stares at his personal maid and sort of personal assistant at times, Liz, breathing out a tired, worn out sigh. He likes Liz, he does, but she's not Zayn and that fact alone has him miserable all over. God, he's so pathetic. So fucking pathetic. If this is what love does to people, then love is fucked up. It should be forbidden and the person to have invented it should be annihilated.

Liz runs a hand through her naturally bright red hair and smiles carefully at her master, “You have a guest, shall I send him in?”

Liam shakes his head, it's an instant reaction. “No, I... I really don't wanna see anyone right now, Liz Just... no, not right now.” he mutters, not even able to form a proper sentence, without breaking it off and shaking his head a few more times. “M'sorry.”

Liz smiles sympathetically, almost worried, “Master, is there anything I can do?” they may have a work-relationship, but she's been in his mansion for years, they have grown close in their own way and seeing Liam this miserable tugs at her heartstrings.

“I don't think so.” Liam sighs, can't help himself and stares at the ground. Love is shit. Liam should advertise it. Help saving people from misery, by warning them about it. Because love is fucking shit and painful and _too much_.

Liz studies her master's face carefully, tries to read him, “Are you sure?” she continues, because she feels a bit hopeless when Liam is like this. So lifeless and miserable. It does not suit him. This is not Liam Payne, this man is a stranger in her master's disguise, who looks about ready to jump off a building.

“I... yes, please... just, I... leave?” he turns to look directly into her eyes, hazel eyes having lost their spark completely.

Liz nods her head, bites back the resigned sigh, “Then I shall send Mr Malik away now.” she replies, turning on her heels and walking swiftly to the door, hand on the door handle and turning it.

“ _WHAT_!” Liam's shout startles Liz into a halt, causing her to flinch and turning back around, staring at Liam's unexpected lively response, hazel eyes wide with disbelief, shock written all over his face.

“Then... I shall send Mr Malik away now?” Liz repeats slowly, worried about why Liam is reacting the way he does and hoping not to fuel his anger – in case that is what he is.

“Zayn is _here_?” Liam whispers, a stupid smile making his way up his face, splitting it in two.

Liz recognizes the spark in his eyes again, sees that stupidly happy smile and she can't help the relieved sigh, “So, I shall send him in?”

“ _Yes_ , god _**yes**_ , please. Please right away. _Please_.” Liam looks about ecstatic now, hazel eyes wide and shining and gorgeously happy. He stumbles out of his bed, new-found energy leading him to his closet, where he strips out of his clothes without a care that Liz is still there and tries to look for a decent outfit, because Zayn is here. _Zayn is here_.

Liz smiles, relieved that Liam's period of misery and depression is already passing and turns on her heels, exiting the room to welcome Mr Malik and lead him to Liam's chamber right away. It is obvious that the male model has easily become Liam's source of happiness and Liz just knows, it's a matter of time, until Liam is in too deep. If he isn't already. From the looks of his misery not too long ago, he is already. But that is not for her to judge, but for the pair to figure out themselves. That is, if Mr Malik is good with his intentions for Liam.

Liz swiftly arrives at the main entrance, where she left Mr Malik in their butler, Gerard's, presence, smiling curtly at the both, “Mr Malik, Mr Payne is expecting you now.” she announces, turning back on her heels and making her way back to Liam's chambers, because she knows Zayn Malik will be following. There is no denying that the male model is gorgeous, but Liz is not sure whether she approves of him yet. Doesn't know how true his intentions for Liam are. But she is not going to interfere. She will be there, when Liam's heart gets broken to mend the pain, she will be there to congratulate him if they end up happily ever after.

Liz notices that Zayn Malik, who has a perfect poker-face, keeps fidgeting with his hands and seems awfully nervous to be meeting Liam. It doesn't seem to be a good sign, judging from how tense the tanned model is and Liz has a bad feeling in her guts, when she arrives at Liam's door and knocks twice, before opening it for the guest.

Zayn swallows slowly, smiles tightly at Liz, because he can't bring himself to smile for real, and enters the room he has spend most of his last two weeks in.

Liz closes the door without so much as a glance inside, giving the two their needed privacy and fleeting the love-fest or battle field that is about to come.

Zayn stares at Liam and bites back a laugh. He can't hold back the words, “You okay there, babe?” the smile that stretches across his face is a bit wide and ridiculous but he can't _help_ it. He crosses the massive room to walk to Liam by the closet and shakes his head in utter amusement and so much fondness in his chocolate-honey eyes. His fingers easily find the material of Liam's pullover that is put on _backwards_ and his fond eyes find Liam's, “Did you get dressed for me?”

Liam stares at Zayn's flawless face, tries to gasp for air but feels overrun by Zayn's presence, his face, his hands on the hem of Liam's stupid pullover and he can't help the soft sigh of relief that follows, the warm fuzzy feeling that pools in his stomach and makes him think that he positively behaves like a school girl. A fucking teenage school girl with her first crush.

And why the fuck is Zayn wearing white. What the hell. That's... fucking illegal. You can't let someone with Zayn's skin tone and facials and body wear a white outfit. You don't just do that. You don't!

“Babe, you 'lright there?” Zayn whispers, face now close to Liam's, all in his space and fingers briefly fluttering over the stitching along his side, which proves that Liam is, indeed, wearing the pullover backwards.

“I am now.” Liam can't lie. Not to Zayn. And he smiles a bit too stupid, a bit too wide, when Zayn smiles in response with that smile that enchanted him from the first moment they have met. He probably was lost ever since he set eyes on Zayn. A goner.

“Good,” Zayn's smile is positively blinding and when he tips his head up and brushes his lips against Liam's ,everything is okay in the world again. Everything is fucking perfect, to be exact. Because Zayn is here now. He's finally here.

Liam's arms automatically wrap around Zayn's torso, pressing him into his chest and tightening the grasp, to feel every curve, every inch of Zayn's perfect body against his own and breathes out a sigh of satisfaction into Zayn's open lips, before thrusting into those lush lips with his tongue.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's... I thought it was quite entertaining. Any thoughts on:  
> 1) the Larry-situation?   
> 2) Niall (sorta love triangle)?  
> 3) Zayn's (or more Ziam's) situation? :)
> 
> Comment please and leave your thoughts on this story!  
> -Alice

**Author's Note:**

> First chaps are never great. SO... it'll get better, I promise ;)


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